Secrets To Tell
by Trivher
Summary: John Kane invites Fiona over for a visit with some news about her father.


I do not own the rights to any of the characters. Thank you towards mellifluous cloud for editting.

Fiona traces her fingers over the strings, smiling softly as the instrument  
tried to sing as it had done in the past. Knowing he hadn't touched it in   
months: too afraid to try, but not ready to hide it away from view. It was a  
piece of his past from which he was unready to move away. She knew as well  
as anyone what that was like.

"Here you go, Cub." She turns toward the swinging kitchen door, where he  
stood with a glass of soda bubbling in his out-stretched arm. Stepping  
forward, she takes it from him.

"Thank you, Papa Bear." Taking a seat just as he did on the opposite side of   
the room, they sit and sip their drinks in silence. Staring at each other,  
waiting for the first move, for someone to ask the questions. She often  
wasn't shy, especially around those that she had known before her life even  
began. Yet starting a conversation didn't feel right. Fiona watches John  
lean forward and place his now-empty glass on the coffee table next to the  
latest edition of People, not something she'd ever imagine he read.

"There's something I need to tell you, Fi." He so rarely used her name,   
preferring simple heartfelt nicknames that only meant something to the two  
of them.

"I figured. Why else would you invite me here?" she responds with a giggle  
and a sincere smile. It was a week ago that she had received an email asking  
her to visit from the man who was now staring intently at his hands. This   
was also something that never happened before. After some begging and  
convincing that she would be safe and responsible, Aunt Melinda paid for her  
plane ticket for a weekend trip.

"I am not sure how to word this or even where to start..." His voice begins  
to trail off until it ends with barely a whisper.

"Well, cliché as it may sound, start with the beginning."

"It's not as simple as that."

"Try?" She watches him questionably as he stands from his seat and crosses  
the room to join her on the couch.

"It's about your father, Cub." Daddy? If not opened and anxious to hear what  
he had to say before, she was now.

"What, John?" It felt very odd to call him that, though it fit the situation  
better.

"Your mother would kill me if she knew I was telling you this. And I think   
your father would as well. But you deserve the truth, deserve to know  
everything. Agree?" She nods nervously, heart thumping.

"What?" she asks again much softer than the first time.

"Your father had an affair once; it lasted about three months. It nearly  
destroyed your parents' marriage. Somehow they found a way to work  
everything through. He admitted his error even though it broke me. Meanwhile  
your mother realized that he was human and she could not destroy an  
undeniable connection."

Fiona couldn't believe it; rather, she didn't want to believe it. How could  
he do that? How could her mother never tell her? Then she recalls something  
spoken just moments ago.

"Why did Daddy admitting his mistake break you? Weren't you happy that he  
realized his error?"

"Because I was the person your father was having an affair with." Fiona's   
hands become numb along with every other part of her body. She drops the  
half-drunk glass into her lap, destroying her brand new pair of jeans.

"I-I... oh wow..." she mutters over and over, his words still echoing in her  
ears. Her father was gay? He didn't act it. He didn't look it.

"Your father wasn't homosexual my dear, if anything he was curious for a  
period. He took almost all curiosities to a level of obsession," he told her  
as if reading her mind.

"Um... why you? Of all people, why you?"

"Because my dear, I am gay. And your father was aware of that. Not many  
people know and I'd rather keep it that way. We all have lives we live in  
the dark, Cub. Don't forget that."

Fiona looks at her lap and the stain, trying to let everything sink in,  
trying not to scream, or cry, or whatever unknown emotion that was trying to  
pushing its way out. She came here with no idea as to what he wished to talk   
about. This certainly wasn't it.

"Thanks for telling me, and I do mean that. But I am going to go now. I just  
need some time to think. Um, want to get some dinner tomorrow before I go   
back to Seattle?" she says while standing, stepping away from the couch and  
moving towards the door.

"That would be wonderful my dear, and you're welcome."


End file.
